


Don't You Forget About...

by gala_apples



Category: Breakout Kings
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gangbang, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's not Breakfast Club that gets you what you need, but what happens after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Forget About...

“I can’t believe this actually happens.” 

Shea doesn’t reply. It’s early, and he’s already been here twenty minutes because the next bus would have gotten him here at five after nine. Fucking weekend service. Of course early morning detention happens. If it didn’t, he wouldn’t fucking be here with four random white kids, and an upper class black kid.

Erica doesn’t need a reply, she just continues. “This is some Breakfast Club shit right here.”

Julianne nods. Shea rolls his eyes. “If it is, we can move onto the part where we get stoned and talk about elephant lamps. Because otherwise this is a waste of a weekend.”

Lloyd looks at him, unbridled curiosity on his face. “What else would you be doing?”

“Having sex.” 

Shea’s prevented from elaborating by Mr Wendell showing up. Shea doesn’t have him as a teacher, but judging by the suit he teaches something boring and stuffy like math or law. Wedell sits on the edge of the teacher’s desk to address them, right leg crossed over the left. Like the way he’s sitting makes him one of them, or some shit. “Looks like all of you showed up. Good thing. Skipping detention brings things to a whole new level of trouble.” Lloyd mmm-hmms to that, the little suck up. “I’m not staying in the room with you. I have my own work to do, and I’ve sat through enough of these to know how distracting petulant teenagers are. I _will_ be doing random checks. If at any point any of you aren't in the room your time will be converted into two weeks of after school detention.”

The second Wendell leaves, Erica goes back to her movie conversation. “So who’s who, then?”

Shea props his chin on his crossed wrists, not caring enough to add his opinion. Julianne on the other hand casts her gaze around the room before saying definitively “Ray’s totally the asshole jock.”

“Fuck you. I’ve never taped anyone’s ass together.” 

Shea’s heard rumours of what Ray does do with ass, but he hardly needs to say them out loud. There could just as easily be rumors about him. And his would probably be even less flattering.

“Who wants to be the guy with cigarette burns?”

“That’s totally Lloyd.”

“My dad’s never abused me. I don’t even know where he lives.”

“Lloyd, your mom is a crazy bitch.”

If it was Shea he’d be leaping over a desk taking a swing. No one talks shit about his mom. Lloyd nods. “That she is.” Then in a complete non-sequitur he turns in his desk to look at Shea. “Shea, Shea. Would you really be having sex?”

“Yeah.”

“With who?”

Shea’s need to shock and horrify Lloyd into not being so nosy briefly overwhelms his common sense. “Dunno. Whatever guy or girl wanted to.”

“Oh wow. That’s really fuckin hot.” No one else says anything, but Erica turns to stare at Julianne. “What? Guy on guy is as hot as girl on girl. I spend my life on the internet. I can masturbate to anything.”

Ray starts to smirk, which prompts Charlie to go the other way and try to fuckin’ scold her. “Not everyone is born with a hand down their pants.”

“Well you should try it. You might learn something.” 

Shea applauds her, maybe five or six claps. It’s the twenty first century. Everyone should use the internet to learn exactly what they like. It’s not like there isn’t a niche for every possible act in the world.

*

A guy goes to detention expecting a few things. Boredom, time to doze. Maybe a new weed connection, depending on the other detainees. You don’t expect that three hours of talking later everyone that was in detention with you will be in a van with you, on the way to an orgy. And yet there Shea is, crammed in the middle two person seat beside Lloyd, as Julianne drives them all to her house.

“Why are we doing this?” Charlie asks as they idle before a red light.

“Because it’s hot?” Erica offers.

“You’re doing it because Ray’s going it,” Lloyd points out, like he thinks he’s being helpful. Shea rolls his eyes. Charlie doesn’t want to hear that shit, no matter how true it is.

Charlie glares then bursts out “okay then, so why’s he doing it?”

Ray doesn’t wait for Lloyd to answer for him. “Because when I got caught shoplifting my girlfriend broke up with me. Because I’m horny. Because I’m allowed to screw around with guys other than you.”

“Look at it this way, Charles. You’re not gay. You’re just a man who has sex with men. I know black people have that term, however ridiculous.”

Shea rolls his eyes. Fuckin’ racist. 

Julianne’s house is typical suburban; a different paint colour than its neighbours, but the same window and door placement as every other house on the street. She parks on the drive, not in the garage and doesn’t seem to think twice about it. The inside of the house has the same individualised cookie cutter feel. No doubt the same Ikea furniture is in half the rooms on the block. Even the house itself is uniform. All the walls Shea sees are butter yellow until he’s in Julianne’s room, which is painted an obnoxious darker fuschia. It’s higher class than his sisters shared room; there are actual pieces of art hanging, not just the photo collages his sisters have.

“Mark Ryden. Nice,” Erica says. Shea’s got no idea what that means. Maybe he’s a designer bedding maker. Julianne’s got a fuckton of pillows.

“No, seriously though, I wouldn’t have pegged you for homsexual, Shea Daniels.”

While it doesn’t surprise Shea that Lloyd’s analysed the entire school’s population in his head -Julianne’s probably done it too- it’s nice to know the geek is capable of being wrong every now and then. “I’m pansexual.”

“What does that mean?”

“Attracted to every kind of person,” Julianne explains to Ray.

“What, equally? There’s gotta be some type you like better.”

“Yes. I like naked people better than dressed people.”

“You heard the man,” Erica proclaims, her own hands already pinching the hem of her shirt and pulling up.

After he’s naked Shea climbs onto Julianne’s bed. He’s hard already, without even looking at the array of bodies in front of him willing to fuck him. This is the fulfillment of all of his jerk off fantasies, the sex and the sexy shame of it all. The idea of being allowed to be insatiable. The relief of letting other people use him for their pleasure instead of having to run a con to figure out what people want from him. It’s so tiring sometimes.

“So how are me and you doing this?” Erica asks.

“Go check my toy drawer,” Julianne says, pointing to the drawer in question.

“Wow, you literally have a full drawer of sex toys.”

“That is so hot,” Lloyd squees.

“Don’t cream yourself, Lloyd.” Ray snarks.

“Unnecessary.”

“Why do you have so many sex toys?”

“I webcam. Plus I have a few hookups.” 

“The internet is a beautiful place,” Lloyd says fervently. Considering that’s where Shea’s gotten all the porn that’s led him to this, he’d have to agree.

Shea’s starting to get antsy. This is starting to feel like an all talk thing. If he’s going to be disappointed he might as well get it over with. “Who wants to fuck me first?”

“I think Ray would be less hurtful if he was sexually satisfied.”

*

By the time the third person is in his ass, Shea feels like he’s been fucking forever. Charlie’s got a smoother gait than Erica did. Charlie’s like riding a bike while Erica was a skateboard, a few interesting tricks but mostly stopping and starting and accidentally scraping a foot against pavement. Charlie’s only sign of orgasm is the way his hands grab Shea’s wrists. He’s been holding them lightly to the bed but now he squeezes, for all the world like he’s trying to use a handbrake.

Shea tries not to clamp down against the gross feeling of being pulled out of. He knows it’ll only make it feel worse when the next person pushes in. He’s starting to get sore. He’s only got Julianne and Lloyd left, but surely he’ll be sorer by the time they’re done using him. No need to make it worse than the consequences he’ll already face.

Of all the people in the room, Shea was most worried about Lloyd. Ray and Charlie are bi or whatever, they’ve fucked guys before. The number of sex toys Julianne owns bodes well. But Lloyd looks like the kind of person to die a virgin. Not to mention he looks like, well, Lloyd. To put it bluntly, Lloyd isn’t his type of guy. For one thing, black guys are hotter than white guys. For another, the kind of guy he likes is borderline thug, a guy who can definitely kick his ass. The only one that can pull that off is Erica. Maybe Ray. So he closes his eyes when Charlie stands up and Lloyd takes his place.

Of course not being able to see him doesn’t matter when Lloyd is a compulsive talker. Condom wrapped dick pressing against Shea’s tender hole, Lloyd takes the opportunity to say “glad you’re a guy. I know where the prostate is. I have no idea where the Gspot is.”

Lloyd has a different technique altogether. An oddly good one, considering all Shea’s reservations about his general Lloydness. Besides Erica, he’s the only one interested in mutual orgasm. The entire time he’s pounding in jackhammer thrusts Lloyd’s hands are roaming on Shea’s skin, from balls to taint to nipples to ribcage. He can’t keep still for an instant. Each touch is another surprise. Each inch of skin Lloyd touches tingles until Shea’s entire body feels alive again, roused from weariness.

It takes one particular touch to make Shea come a second time. Lloyd never pauses in his vigorous thrusts, just shifts slightly to give himself extra room between Shea’s legs. Then he jam his fingers against Shea’s worn asshole, like a cruel brother punching a younger sibling on a bruise. Shea clenches from the shock of it and nearly tears a hole in Julianne’s sheets as he bucks and come spills out of him.

But it’s not done yet. He contracted for five, and they’re not done yet, so he doesn’t get to be. Julianne’s wearing the same harness but the dildo is different, white flesh tone to Erica’s red one. She smells like limes when she crawls into the vacated space they’ve all used. She kisses his forehead before she pushes in, chaste compared to Erica’s filthy wet kiss and Ray’s near assault on his lips. The head of the plastic cock feels enormous. Shea can’t tell if it’s because he’s tighter post orgasm, or because his ass wants to be done, or if Julianne picked something bigger as a finishing surprise. Whatever the cause is, Shea takes it, just lets his legs stay open and breathes through being pushed into yet again.

Shea can tell from the first stroke that it’s Julianne’s strapon. Not that he didn’t know, they are at her house. But she knows how to use it. Even though he’s more sore than anything else, there’s something in her stroke that has his body attempting to get interested again.

Shea can’t hold his legs up anymore. Every inch of him is exhausted, quivering and covered in sweat that he doesn’t even know is his or someone else’s. Thankfully Julianne doesn’t seem to mind the dead weight of legs on her back.

“Can you come a third time?”

Shea shakes his head, or at least manages a general flopping no. That’s not what this is about anymore. This is pure endurance, being able to be fucked by five people in a row.

Her thrusts change then. It’s obvious to him that the sex has clicked from _get him off_ to _get myself off_ in Julianne’s head. She can hardly begrudge her for it. He wants to be used. There’s even a small part of him that wants to offer everyone in the room second goes. It might kill him, so he won’t, but he’ll jerk off in the weeks to come thinking about it.

* 

Getting home is hell. Julianne is good enough to drive him to the apartment block, but Shea still has to get to his apartment. Easily said than done. The elevator hasn’t worked for three weeks, so Shea has to climb the four flights to the Daniels’ top floor home. Every step jostles his ass. He feels like anyone could peer through his jeans and find him gaping open. He’s not sure if he’d be humiliated or turned on. It’s all so filthy good. Molly Ringwald aint got nothing on him.


End file.
